


I can picture you in my heart

by broship_addict, elyteracy



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Andrew and Matt are roommates, Chicago Seals, Earl Mewgnificient, M/M, No Drama, Pro Neil, literally none, photographer Andrew, the cat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 00:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18187382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broship_addict/pseuds/broship_addict, https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyteracy/pseuds/elyteracy
Summary: Andrew Minyard is a freelance photographer. Due to an unfortunate ski accident inuring one of the reporters for HEXYL, a notorious exy magazine, he is assigned to Neil Josten, striker for the Chicago Seals, a situation which will spark friendship and more.





	I can picture you in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to [broship-addict](http://broship-addict.tumblr.com) for their amazing art which you can find [here](https://broship-addict.tumblr.com/post/183339135052/my-piece-for-the-aftgreverse-big-bang-i-have).
> 
> this fic is sponsored by tea and too many fashion videos. Find me on tumblr [here](http://elyteracy.tumblr.com).
> 
> enjoy!

Being a freelance photographer wasn't what Andrew thought he'd end up doing with his life. To be fair, dead in a ditch was what he'd envisioned, so at least, it was better than his expectations. Bee always told him to try and see the silver lining.

It had many advantages like, not having to talk to people for several days on end and not having to sell his soul to a corporation, which Andrew was moderately grateful for.

It also had many disadvantages like being generally unreliable and assholes who thought "experience" paid the bills. That meant he had to resort to a flatmate to pay the rent. Said flatmate, Matt Boyd, was an exy player for the Chicago Seals. Andrew had done his best to never have to listen to anything about exy ever again after university, but it seemed he was cursed in a way.

It also meant that, if his pay from his freelance gigs and the two nights per week he worked as a bartender at Eden's Twilight weren't enough to cover rent, he'd ask Matt if his girlfriend had any work for him.

Dan Wilds was editor in chief of H **EXY** L, an exy magazine whose name Andrew found ridiculous. He was quite sure whoever had named that magazine hadn't known anything about chemistry and had just picked the name because it contained the word Exy and they'd been out of inspiration. Not that Andrew knew much about chemistry either, but he, on the other hand, hadn't named a magazine.

He'd done the counts several times, which was a feat, as he was neither a fan of maths nor counting of any kind, and he'd reached the same conclusion each time. February was going to be a hard month, and he needed some extra work. Winter was always a bit harder as there were fewer weddings, his principal source of income. There were more funerals in exchange, but for reasons Andrew wasn't privy to, people usually didn't hire photographers for these.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His computer screen mockingly read 1:48 am. If he wanted a chance at some work, he'd have to be at Dan's office in the early morning. Just thinking about it made him more tired.

He stretched his arms over his head, leaning back in his chair. He set an alarm on his phone, who informed him, against his will, that it would ring in 6 hours and 11 minutes. He stood up, prepared himself for bed, and tried to fall asleep.

*

He wasn't the only one in front of Dan's office at 8 am, but he was the only one who Wilds recognized. She raised an eyebrow at him, but opened her door and called him inside.

"Minyard. You look halfway to your grave already," she told him, once she was sitting behind her desk. She seemed to think it made her powerful, but a desk wouldn't stop Andrew if he'd set his mind on killing her.

But a dead Wilds wouldn't bring money. Maybe he could reconvert himself as an assassin for hire, at least that would pay rent.

"If only," he deadpanned.

Wilds turned on her computer and crossed her arms, staring at him. "What do you want?"

Andrew stared back. "The same thing as usual."

Wilds held his gaze for a while longer, before turning away. She pulled her phone out of her bag and opened the planner on her desk. "The photographer who usually covers the Chicago Seals broke his leg."

Andrew shrugged. "I didn't do it, if that's what you're implying."

"If you could make black ice appear at will, you wouldn't be here, Minyard. She slipped a few days ago," she explained. "I need someone to cover for her on Thursday after their games against the Mermaids and next week for a personal interview with Neil Josten. You take both or you don't have a job. Standard rates apply."

Andrew clucked his tongue. "Fine, I'll take both." He didn't have a choice anyway.

"I'm glad to hear that," Wilds said, with a satisfied smile. "I'll text you the details."

Andrew didn't have anything to add, so he stood up and left without looking back.

*

Andrew didn't know Neil Josten, but he knew of him. He was a striker for the Chicago Seals, Boyds' team. Boyd had a soft spot for him and talked about him way too often for somebody who already had a girlfriend. Andrew, thanks to or due to his memory, knew too much about Josten for someone he'd never met. He knew his coffee order, black with one sugar, that he didn't like veggies and loved fruits.

He also now knew that Neil was mouthy and that one day his sharp tongue would get him in trouble, if it hadn't already. Judging by the scars on his face, it probably had. He'd watched an interview and had fallen down the rabbit hole of Youtube's recommended videos. A compilation of best Neil Josten's roasts was now playing in the background while he was finishing some wedding pictures editing. It was a surprising motivator.

His phone vibrated on the desk. Andrew took a look at it. It was a text from Nicky, his cousin who was living in Germany and happily engaged with Erik, boyfriend and now fiance of 5 years. It was a picture of a puppy followed by too many emojis. Andrew thought one emoji was already too many, but his cousin was way too fond of them, and the wall of pink hearts and sparkles felt like a personal assault on his eyes.

Andrew: Are you sure you can keep it alive?  
  
Annoying cousin: rude!!! and y r u not sleeping? its late!!

Andrew spared one last glance for Nicky's message then turned off his phone without answering.

*

Andrew had never liked crowds. There were few people that Andrew disliked more than reporters. Working as a freelancer and having to stand surrounded by dozens of them hadn't helped that dislike. They were loud, nosy, talked too much, had no concept of personal space and generally too many cameras around them to be viable murder victims.

The Chicago Seals had won against the L.A. Sirens after a grueling game. Neil Josten was standing on the podium, face still read from running around like a headless chicken, wearing a ridiculous blue bandana. He drank from his water bottle and a drop of water escaped, gliding along his jaw. Andrew's eyes followed its path down, and his camera did the same, capturing the way it rolled down his neck.

The reporter next to Andrew took a few steps forward before asking his questions. "Neil Josten, what do you in response to Riko Moriyama's comments on your team chances of winning the championship?"

Neil's face went cold and he leaned forward closer to the mic. "Well, if his maths skills are as good as his exy skills, I'm quite confident in our chances. It's okay Riko, not everybody can have a Master in Theoretical mathematics and be a pro exy player."

Andrew didn't make it a habit to be dramatic, but with his fiery red hair and his scars, Neil looked like an attractive devil come to take revenge on reporters. He raised his camera to take a picture of Neil, his blue eyes aflame and his smile like a gash along his face, too wide and too sharp.

*

Renee snuggled next to him on the couch, popcorn in hand. On the TV, somebody screamed. Andrew briefly looked up from his laptop to see a woman get killed, her blood splattering around the room. He looked back down at his pictures. They needed to be edited by tomorrow and it was already eleven pm. He had a long night before him.

"It's a good picture," Renee commented, when he switched to the first pictures he'd taken of Neil, the one where he was still inhaling the cigarette smoke like a man in a desert would drink water from an oasis.

He glanced at her, pushing his glasses back on the top of his nose. "I don't take bad pictures," he said, moving on to the next ones, the ones he actually planned on sending to Dan.

Renee chuckled, always finding humor in Andrew's quips, even when there wasn't any. Sometimes, he still wasn't quite sure why she was willingly spending time with him. "He's very handsome, though these scars are quite pronounced." She pointed at Neil's cheek. "Are you going to retouch them?"

"No."

She nodded and didn't say anything more about it, turning back to the movie.

It took him three more hours to go through all the pictures. Renee was fast asleep, curled up in her blanket. Her slow breathing was oddly comforting.

He verified the pictures one last time before sending them to Dan. He closed his laptop and stood up, stretching. He made sure Renee was covered from head to toe before heading to bed.

He changed and brushed his teeth and wasn't surprised to see his phone blinking when he came back on the nightstand. He checked it and found a message from Dan praising him for the pictures. He didn't answer, only made note to send her an invoice for his work tomorrow.

*

There were few people in life that Andrew disliked more than Marissa Lu, a reporter for H **EXY** L. She was half of the reason he had never joined H **EXY** L as a contracted employee instead of staying a freelance photographer. She was chatty, nosy, romantic, and desperately straight. Andrew had to admit, it did make her quite successful at her job, but it also made her the most annoying person Andrew knew, and he had Nicky Hemmick as a cousin.

They met early morning, way too early for Andrew, at the H **EXY** L headquarters, where she picked him up with her red Prius, a poor excuse for a car. She talked all the way to the Chicago Seals court, which was about twenty minutes, and just long enough for Andrew to seriously consider murder.

The Seals were still training when they entered the court. The Coach, Olivia Ellsworth, walked up to them. "You two are the reporters from H **EXY** L?" She asked gruffly.

Marissa smiled wide and offered her hand. "Yes, we are. I'm Marissa Lu, and this is Andrew Minyard, the photographer. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Ellsworth."

Olivia's gaze slid to Andrew, expecting him to introduce himself. Andrew didn't say anything, only stared, and she didn't try to talk to him or shake his hand. She turned back to the Court, arms crossed. "Josten! The reporters from H **EXY** L are here," she shouted, to the group of athletes shooting balls at each other.

Neil Josten jogged toward them, taking off his helmet. He was still red and sweaty from running around, and his hair was pulled back with this horrible orange bandana that clashed with his auburn hair. His blue eyes swept over Marissa to land on Andrew. He narrowed his eyes. He looked ready to say something, but the Coach cut him off.

"You smell, Josten. Go get dressed, I can't let you do an interview, even a paper one, looking like a caveman."

Neil wrinkled his nose in a way that Andrew dare say was even cute, and huffed, before making his way to the showers.

Olivia led them to the Court break room. It was big with wide windows and two comfy brown couches. "Do you want coffee?" She asked, already making her way to the coffee machine. "I always need coffee. This team is driving me crazy."

Andrew shook his head no, but Marissa accepted with way more cheer than coffee deserved.

Neil showed up a few minutes later and made a beeline for the coffee machine. Andrew didn't stay for the interview. He had no interest in seeing somebody awkwardly attempt to dodge Marissa's personal questions.

He spent a few minutes walking around the building until he found an exit door. He popped it open with a crate he found lying around and lit a cigarette, leaning against the wall. Today was nice, with a soft breeze and a blue sky.

He answered a few messages on his phone, then played a shooting game on it for a few minutes. Marissa had his number, she'd call him when they were done.

He wasn't interrupted by a call as he had predicted, but Neil Josten stumbling through the door instead. His eyebrows were pinched together and his lips pursed. He seemed surprised to see Andrew, but quickly schooled his face back to indifference. It didn't matter to him, Andrew didn't care. He leaned against the wall and blew smoke toward the sky.

Neil took a step closer, eyes hungrily looking at the cigarette between his fingers. Andrew raised an eyebrow but dug one out of his pocket and held it for him to take. Neil did, silently waiting for Andrew to lit it.

He didn't smoke it. He just let it burn, the smoke rising slowly in the air before dissipating. He seemed less tensed, looking at the orange tip, as if that simple gesture had unwound something in his heart. He was transfixed by it, enough that Andrew had the time to raise the camera around his neck and snap a picture of him.

"I didn't give you a cigarette just to let it go to waste."

Neil looked at him for the corner of his eyes. "You're the photographer."

"I'm a photographer," Andrew corrected.

Neil sent him a flat look which Andrew barely paid attention to. "How are you going to photograph me?"

"With a camera."

"Very funny. I meant positions and... stuff." Neil trailed off, his photography knowledge apparently stopping here.

"Not naked, if that's what you meant," Andrew deadpanned and had the pleasant surprise to see faint blush making it's way up Neil's neck.

"I wouldn't have agreed anyway," Neil muttered.

Andrew threw his cigarette on the floor. "What would make you agree then?"

Neil paused for a second as if he hadn't expected the question. He shrugged. "I don't want to do all these sexy pauses, it just... makes me uncomfortable."

Andrew nodded, wondering if there wouldn't do the trick. The red bricks looked nice with Neil's white t-shirt and the light fell quite nicely in the street. "Did you know that if you say Jeremy Knox's name three times in front of a mirror, Kevin Day will appear to scold you on your diet?"

Neil blinked before he snorted, his eyes lighting up with amusement, little creases at the corner, his freckles jumping on his cheeks. Andrew took the picture right then, and judged that yes, here would be fine.

*

Andrew threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it in front of the only 24h convenience store close to where he lived. It was tucked at the end of a dirty and gray parking lot that had surely seen at least one murder. It was still extremely practical when he needed to buy groceries after his shift at Eden's. It was the only store open at 5 am in the vicinity.

The clerk at the counter knew him by now, which was not something Andrew enjoyed. As usual, he ignored her greeting and tired smile to make his way right away to the junk food section.

Andrew was usually completely alone at this hour, so he didn't expect a familiar voice commenting on his food choices.

"Are you trying suicide by sugar?" Neil Josten asked, red, sweaty, in running gear. Andrew briefly wondered if Neil was permanently stuck in his state and whether he himself minded.

After a second of deliberation, where he just stared at Neil and didn't answer his question, he decided that no, he didn't mind. By then, Neil had realized that Andrew wasn't likely to say anything by now and switched the topic of conversation. "I googled you. I was sure I knew your face but I couldn't remember where."

Andrew dumped two packs of Pringles in his basket under the judgemental gaze of one Neil Josten. "That's not an accomplishment," he said, flatly and added some more snacks to his purchase. "Anyone with access to the Internet can google."

Neil seemed to hesitate for a few seconds while Andrew continued to add unhealthy food to his basket. "Andrew Minyard, goalie for the PSU Foxes, saving rate of almost 98% when you were actually paying attention. You could have been the best goalie in College First Division if you'd care," he recited. "Why did you stop?"

Andrew huffed. "I don't need another Kevin Day."

"You still talk to him?" Neil asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Andrew didn't know if talking was really the word. It was closer to a random text with a link or a comment at weird hours of the day and usually Andrew's following answer which was 'fuck off'. Though from what he's heard about Neil Josten from his flatmate, Matt Boyd, it was as good as it was going to get.

"No," he said. "He talks at me sometimes, which is not the same."

That made Neil snort. Andrew looked at him from the corner of his eyes. He wasn't quite smiling, but his blue eyes seemed less cold for a moment, his face softer, less angular.

They stood next to each other in silence for a handful of seconds, while Andrew studies the yogurts to decide which one he wanted.

"You haven't asked me anything about my past," Neil said. The softer look on his face was gone, replaced with something like resignation.

Andrew opted for a caramel mousse thing, mostly because it was on sale. "I know already too much about you through Boyds."

"Boyd?" Neil repeated, confused. "How do you know- Oh. You're the Andrew."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "The Andrew?"

Neil grinned this time, the scars on his cheeks jumping up as his eyes creased. "He has a lot of things to say about you."

"What kind of things?" Andrew asked with narrowed eyes.

Neil shrugged, still smiling. "Things."

Andrew narrowed his eyes at Neil but didn't dignified the teasing with an answer and instead made his way to the cashier. Neil shook his head at the content of his basket, but refrained from making any additional comment. Good for him, as Andrew wasn't above throwing the only healthy food he had, a pack of carrots, to his face.

He finished paying, Neil chatting about exy, which Andrew only listened to with a distracted ear. It didn't seem to bother Neil.

They made the way outside. Neil started stretching, and Andrew made a conscious effort not to stare at his legs in those tight sports leggings. "What are you going to do now?" Neil asked.

Andrew raised his bag. "Put that in the fridge, and sleep."

"Sleep well, then," Neil nodded, a tiny rare smile at the corner of his mouth. Then, he waved at Andrew and ran off. Andrew watched go for a few seconds before he turned away and made his way home.

*

The clock said two am. Andrew drummed his fingers on the table, looking at the mass of people in the club. His head was pounding and he could feel himself craving for a cigarette.

So much for pretending he wasn't addicted.

"I'm taking my break now," he warned Roland.

Roland nodded before smiling at the next customer, a tall man with electric blue hair. Andrew wanted to roll his eyes at the way Roland leaned on the bar, the large neck of his t-shirt sliding off his shoulder.

He got his jacket on the way out, and left by the employee door. The fresh air felt good, even though it smelled vaguely of alcohol and garbage. He patted his pocket for his cigarettes and lit one. The tip glowed orange in the darkness. Andrew took a breath and slowly let the smoke out.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, wondering what Nicky had decided to text him this time.

It wasn't Nicky, but a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: You didn't edit the scars  
Unknown: this is Neil by the way. Matt gave me your number.

Andrew frowned. It took him a second to understand what Neil was referring to but there weren't many things he could have been referring to: the H **EXY** L interview had been released today.

Andrew: it was too much work

The reply didn't come right away. It took a few minutes, enough for Andrew to finish his cigarette and save the new number as 'sweaty idiot'.

sweaty idiot: Most photographers do

Andrew: I don't care about most photographers. Why are you awake?

sweaty idiot: my cat woke me up

Then came a blurry picture of a black cat whose eyes reflected the light.

sweaty idiot: that's Earl. Earl Mewgnificient.

The name of the cat was so stupid that Andrew decided he didn't even want to answer. His break was finished anyway. He threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it before going back inside.

*

sweaty idiot: what's your favourite ice cream flavour?

Andrew: do you always write everything with unnecessary u's?

sweaty idiot: My mum was British. So?

Andrew: Cookie dough

*

There he was again, in the dairy aisles of the 7-11: Neil Josten.

It had been one week since they'd met in the very same store last time, and they had exchanged at least a few texts every day. Andrew's camera roll was full of blurry pictures of a black void with two green eyes named Earl. He's been too lazy to delete them.

He walked up to Neil realized something was wrong. Neil was breathing fast, too fast, like he couldn't get any air in, and he was holding tightly a pack of coffee beans. "Neil?" He called out, but Neil didn't even seem to hear him,

Panic attack. Andrew had had some when he was much younger, before he'd given up on even being scared. It was easier not to feel anything.

"Breath," he said and reached out for him, curling a hand around the back of his neck. Neil tensed at the touch, one hand raising as if to warp around Andrew's wrist, but it stopped there, never touching him. Neil was watching him with wide, blurry eyes, shallow breaths escaping his lips. "Deep breaths," he ordered, deliberately taking a long inhalation and letting it out slowly.

Neil blinked and did as he was told, forcing himself to breathe slower, deeper. He sounded like he had run a marathon when he said: "Andrew. What are you doing here?"

"Grocery shopping. My life isn't that exciting." Andrew let go of Neil's neck. Neil took a step back and seemed to collapse on himself, looking tired and hunched on himself. "What are you doing here?"

Neil leaned against the aisle. "I couldn't sleep so I went for a run." He blinked, eyes dropping. "I need to go back home, I need to catch some sleep before training."

Andrew stared at him for a couple of seconds, not believing how stupid Neil was. He looked at the tired slope of Neil's shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, just above the freckles on his nose and cheekbones. Finally, he noticed what Neil was holding: a pint of cookie dough ice cream. "You plan on training in a few hours?" He asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes."

"You're an idiot and you're dead on your feet. You'll get hit by a ball in the face."

Neil scoffed. "I'm a professional exy player," he protested and couldn't stop a yawn briefly after. Still, he seemed determined on committing suicide by exy.

"Where do you live?"  
  
"Downtown, close to the museum. Why?"

That made Andrew frown slightly. "That's about an hour away from here on foot. Did you run here?"

Neil made a sheepish face. "Yes. It's my usual trail."

Andrew didn't make any comment on the fact that he hated running and running was stupid. He took the ice cream from Neil's hand and made his way toward the exit. "I live five minutes away and I have a couch."

Neil didn't follow right away, as if he was still processing what Andrew had said, but caught up with him at the cashier.

*

If decoration had only been left for Andrew to decide, the entire apartment would be black. Unfortunately, their landlord had been very clear: they weren't allowed to paint the walls in any color but white, and Matt was not that much into black. The result was a mix of black furniture peppered around the room with other colors, which made the room look almost half-decent.

"It's funny, I've actually been here several times for dinner," Neil said as he stepped inside. "But we never even met once."

Andrew took off his shoes and hung his coat and keys. Neil didn't have any coat to hang up, but he did take off his shoes too. "I work evenings at a nightclub," Andrew explained, without adding that he also had no interest in Boyd's life and usually just wouldn't come out of his room until the guest had left.

Neil made his way to the couch and sat on it. Or maybe, collapse would be more appropriate for the way he seemed to let himself fall into it.

"If you move from the couch, I can open it. It will be more comfortable," Andrew told him. Neil hummed and nodded, but Andrew was convinced he hadn't even heard what he'd said. "Neil. Do you want me to open the couch?"

Neil's eyes fluttered open. "Slept in worse places," he mumbled, and his eyes closed again.

Andrew gave up on trying to convince Neil to make himself more comfortable. He fetched a blanket from the cupboard and threw it over Neil before going to sleep himself.

*

Neil woke up with a start when Andrew called his name. His hand automatically reached for something under a pillow that wasn't there. He blinked a few times, looking around like he was trying to place where he was.

His gaze fell on Andrew and his body relaxed. "Andrew," he said, voice rough with sleep, a cowlick in his hair. Andrew wanted to reach over and flatten it. "You startled me."

"I wanted to know if you wanted breakfast."

Neil slowly got up, stretching his arms over his head. His t-shirt rode up, revealing a slither of scarred skin around Neil's stomach. When he caught Andrew looking, he pulled the hem down abruptly. "What time is it?"

"Close to 11."

"Fuck, I'm late for practice!" Andrew pushed back on his shoulder until he sat back down.

"You're not. Boyd was here, called in sick for you."

"Sick? I'm not sick."

Andrew shrugged. "He said you needed the sleep and that we shouldn't wake you up." And Andrew hadn't argued or even wanted to. He made his way behind the counter of the kitchen. "Now, do you want breakfast or not?"

Neil seemed a little put off, but he walked to the kitchen, bare feet, and sat on one of the stools, arms crossed on the bar. "Not really a breakfast anymore at this hour," he pointed out.

Andrew waved the comment away. "Before noon, it's still breakfast. But if it would make you happy, we can call it brunch."

Neil shrugged and watched as Andrew prepared breakfast.

Once Andrew was done, he set the plate in front of Neil and came to sit next to him. Neil picked a toast from the plate and bit in it. "I's goo'," he mumbled, mouth full.

Andrew shook his head. "Talk or eat, but you can't do both."

That made Neil huff in amusement, the corner of his eyes creasing slightly. He nodded and kept silent until he'd finished swallowing. He turned toward Andrew, their knees brushing together. Neil was still wearing his leggings from a few hours ago.

"I wanted to say that this is really good." Neil took a sip of coffee from his mug. "Do you cook often?"

"Everyday, except if Matt cooks, which is not often."

"He's not very good at it."

"No," Andrew agrees. "Do you live alone?"

"Yeah, it's just me and Earl. That's probably why Matt invites me over so often. I think he's worried I'll starve myself."

"No girlfriend?" Andrew asked, innocently, hands around his cup.

"No. I don't... really do that? Dating, I mean," Neil answered, looking at his plate. "You?"

Andrew ignored the little twinge in his chest. He didn't care, he didn't want to date Neil. "I obviously don't have a girlfriend."

Neil wrinkled his nose slightly, clearly confused. "Why?"

"I'm gay."

Andrew refused to call the little expression of surprise on his face cute and changed the subject instead. "Do you want to take a shower? I'll give you a ride home afterwards."

Neil looked down at his lap. "I don't have any clothes."

"I'll find you some."

Neil looked up at him, smiling slightly. "That's surprisingly nice of you."

"Just go shower, the towels are under the sink," Andrew told him, standing up to clean up the table.

*

Neil's apartment looked like he'd only moved two weeks ago, even though Andrew knew for a fact that it had been a year. There was one lone couch in front of a coffee table that had seen better days. In the kitchen, a picnic table was surrounded by one chair and one unstable mismatched stool.

In the entrance though, pictures were tacked to the wall. Andrew took a moment to look at them. There were a few of his cat, Earl, who was lounging on the sad looking couch, but some of people too: Neil sitting on Matt's shoulders, smiling, Neil and Dan, Matt's girlfriend, Neil and Kevin Day sleeping on a bench slumped against each other.

Soft steps made him turn around. Neil was freshly showered, dressed in jeans and a gray t-shirt, drying his hair with a towel. Earl jumped from the couch to weave himself around Neil's legs, purring happily.

"I see why Matt thinks you're going to starve yourself," Andrew told him. "You should buy furniture, it can be useful."

Neil rolled his eyes. "I live alone, I don't need more furniture."

He walked to the kitchen and Andrew followed quietly behind. He opened the fridge and pulled out a box. "Striker from the team made it. I don't like cake that much, it's much too sweet for me, but... I thought you'd enjoy it better than I do."

"What makes you say that?" Andrew muttered, staring at the box.

"I watched you put three sugars and milk in your tea earlier," Neil deadpanned.

Andrew couldn't deny it, so he stayed for coffee and cake. He left with cat hair all over his pants.

*

sweaty idiot: I think Earl misses you

Andrew: I don't miss him

sweaty idiot: i saw you scratch him under his chin, he's going to love you forever

*

Someone was calling his phone, which in itself was surprising because the few people who he actually deign to spend time on knew he hated calls.

It was Neil. Andrew extracted a hand from his blanket and answered, trying not to yawn.

"Hi," Neil greeted him. "Did I wake you?"

Andrew didn't see any point in lying. "Yes. What do you want?"

There was a faint chuckle on the other side of the line. "Grumpy, aren't we?" Neil teased. "Well, you know I'm playing this weekend."

"Unfortunately."

"All players get free tickets if they ask for them. I was wondering if you wanted to come?"

Andrew sat up in his bed. Light was streaming through the blinds on his window, lending in thin rectangles of light on his sheets. "I'm working that weekend."

"Oh," Neil breathed, disappointed. "That's fine. Are you doing anything on Sunday then?"

"I'm not."

"There's this restaurant close to my place that does breakfast all day. Interested?"

"Of course," Andrew answered, and if he'd been the type to smile, he would have.

*

Andrew elbowed a reporter out of the way as he tried to come closer to the stage where Neil was answering questions after his game. He really hated reporters, the way they seemed to want to shove their microphone in anybody's face. Was it even hygienic? How many people had spit over this microphone?

Neil was in the midst of answering his last question when he spotted Andrew. It was easy to tell, with the ways his eyes widened and how he stared hard at Andrew.

Andrew couldn't help but snap a picture.

"I'm done," he told the reporter, who protested, but Neil was already halfway out and didn't stop to finish his answer. Andrew hadn't even paid attention to the question.

They found each other in the corridor leading to the locker rooms. Security had stopped Andrew, but Neil had waved him in. He led Andrew to a quieter corner. "You said you were working," Neil said, eyes narrowed at him.

"I am," Andrew confirmed, raising the camera and the badge around his neck

"Why didn't you tell me you would be at the game anyway?"

Andrew shrugged. "Surprise?"

Neil laughed lightly. It made his eyes light up, and for a moment, Andrew wanted to run his thumb along the freckles on his cheekbones, follow the lines of the scars on his cheek. "Can I kiss you?" He asked, the question slipping out of him before he could stop himself.

Neil stopped laughing. "What?"

Andrew stepped back, his stomach churning. "Forget it. It was stupid."

Neil reached over for him, but stopped short of touching him. The respectfulness of the gesture didn't help the ache in Andrew' chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like. I was just surprised."

"Why?"

"I didn't know you were interested in me."

Andrew scoffed. "That's just because you're oblivious."

Neil huffed but didn't refute it. His hand hovered around Andrew's shoulder. "Can I touch you?" Andrew swallowed and nodded. Neil's hand settled on his shoulder, gentle and warm. "I want to try."

Andrew pursed his lips. "I thought you didn't date?"

"I'm open to new experiences," Neil said with a smile.

Andrew decided that kissing the smirk off his face was a really good idea, and proceeded to do exactly that.


End file.
